The Witches Empath
by Natalya Raven
Summary: This is a lot diffrent from H.I.V.E. but one of the charaters Reaper trained in Russia with Raven. This is my first story, but I hope you like it.
1. Chapter 1

The Witches Empath 

Chapter One

The Spell

Clang, clang I knocked on the heavy steel door, observing the harsh patterns in the peeling rust. The sound of the tapping resounded in a desolate way, like a lonely church bell, singing for no-one, only itself. Such loneliness was powerful, especially in the dead of night like now, where the darkness swallowed every glimmer, every spark.  
I _loved _the nights of these gatherings, out here where moonbeams caressed your pale skin, on the inside where the hot fumes and smells wafted, the exhilaration, the risk. Of course it was risky, experimenting with the occult, dabbling in things that want to be left alone. That's why we did it, that's why we all did.

I was dressed in a deep purple, bows and frills, the shimmering waves of satin cascading around my heels. It was similar to the thing wealthy Elizabethans would wear, only this had something about it, mystery, it wasn't for a delicate woman, it was for someone bold… like a witch.  
Wind whipped at the fabric, nipping and pinching like mischievous poltergeists, cackling and shrieking as it invaded my presence, my soul and my skin. The elements were magical, beautiful.  
"But so destructive." Sighed a gaunt man who had finally opened the door to me. He was a warlock of the name Carlos, with floppy dark hair and empty black eyes. This was not the first time he had interrupted my thoughts as if he knew them, I shouldn't have been phased, but his eyes! With them he could see through my entire being I was sure, as if I was some spectre. Goosebumps rose on my skin, things rarely put me on edge but Carlos had eyes like the dead, a corpse with no soul residing within, a shell. 'A shell' where had I heard that before? He moved aside to allow my access and I took a cautious step forward. The warmth, how I missed it, the gut warming, skin prickling warmth. From the outside this place seemed merely a warehouse, but on the inside it was wonderland. Robed figures milled around, wafting sage sticks, while others sat down making them. I'd done that, it was awkward because you had to use the right colour thread and then wind each strand around the sage three times in order to please the lady. The lady was like a Goddess and pleasing her was supposedly our aim, but I wasn't sure. we'd most probably given her plenty of reasons to curse us.

I delved into my purse and fished out a white rose.  
"I have power, this is real." I whispered to myself in reaction to my creeping sensation of unease. That was when Midnight approached me, Midnight was our coven mistress and took the mantle of high priestess during formal ritual. She was also an accomplished physic and medium, apparently a ghost had told her how to do what we were to do tonight.

"Blessed be." She smiled warmly. When she was in this mood it was hard to imagine her as the pushy, slightly scary person I had known her to be, driving us blind into the depths of the unknown.  
"Are you ready?" She asked, and I shivered in apprehension as an answer; I had volunteered to do this, whatever was going to happen. It was supposed to make me feel at one with the witches of old, to be empathic. I didn't know what that would mean.

Nervous now, Midnight pushed me close to a pit of fire, though it was hot, I was filled with a chill one should only feel when watching ones own funeral. Cold that sank right into a persons bones.  
"What should I do?" I whispered, but Midnight said nothing, only stared at me with sinister dark blue eyes, dark and possessive. She was dangerous now, as she pushed a black rose into my palm, swatting away the white one. She began consecrating my body with a smoke plume, wafted in the shape of a pentacle. The roses thorns pricked at my fingers, making them slick with blood. Midnight grabbed my wrist , unperturbed by the crimson substance.

"_Air."_ She started, her voice guttural and primal as if it were not she controlling her tongue. "_Please bless this instrument and make this ritual successful."_

Instrument? She considered me an instrument?  
"_Fire."_ She continued, and thrust my fingers into flame for an instant. I observed her, the way she looked so inhuman, her features silhouetted by the flames. I eyed the way her dark hair curled up dry, baked in the heat, her forceful eyes, creating the illusion that they were black in the dim light.

Then I felt pressure on my chest, enough to topple me into the pit and I went, arms flailing behind me, but I was gone, into the flaming, hellish depths of below…


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

**Falling**

_No greater agony had been felt by a humanoid form, as Celeste literally blind and burning, floundered like a half drowned butterfly. Lifting her arms like the poor butterfly's wings seemed impossible, as if they had no muscles and were buried beneath miles of concrete._

_The girl tried to open her eyes, through a crack she could see blue, startling electric blue, and a crackling in the air, like the snapping of time. Celeste shuddered, trying to find ground, instead of flying weightless through the electric blue that enveloped her._

_It was just a terrible burning sensation, coursing through her. It scalded the bone, tore at the skin, melting, eating away like acid with fangs. It boiled her blood and singed her hair before she fell, gasping and disorientated like a dizzied fish…_


End file.
